


Pith

by Aerlind



Series: Meleth [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Mostly Erestor/Glorfindel but background Elrond/Lindir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4067866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerlind/pseuds/Aerlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lovestory of Erestor and Glorfindel, related to Acciacatura. Can be read apart form it too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning: the introduction of Erestor and strange little notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pith: The whitish inner portion of the rind of citrus fruits, commonly referred to as the pith.

History and politics.

Those are the two things that interest him the most, which catch his attention, of which he owns more than enough knowledge. Yes, he has loads of information hidden inside his skull: of culture, of science, of Men and Dwarves and Halflings, of Rohirrim and Rangers, of Valar, Maia and Istari. But most, out of all, he knows about politics and history. And most of all, he loves history. That is why he enjoys listening to the musicians in the Hall of Fire, for they tell briefer, but more emotional parts of history. Ah, it is only seldom he manages to actually listen, for his usual days pass by buried under loads of work.

And Erestor works with what he loves.

History.

Politics.

As the Chief Counsellor of the Lord of Imladris, Erestor has gotten access to the beautiful, wonderful library. He couldn’t be happier about it. It is where he goes to find sources and references, to see how others have solved a problem or two, to find peace.

Unfortunately,  _peace_  is not exactly the word the Elf would use to describe his attitude now. Lord Elrond has become sick, and therefore all the work has fallen to his hands. As if there had not been enough before! Luckily his friend, Lindir, a musician and an Elf very deeply in love, helps him when he is able to. Erestor would recognize the looks that the small Elf gives to the subject of his affection anywhere –he has seen them millions of time before, in his mother’s eyes, in his father’s eyes, in the eyes of his friends, in the eyes of his friends’ mates, in the eyes of children and in the eyes of adults. In the eyes of Dwarves and in the eyes of Hobbits and in the eyes of Men alike. No one seems to escape the weird note woven to the history of this world. No one, except him, apparently. And nowadays, he would not count on that either.

The night has already fallen when Erestor returns to his chambers. He glances at the note on his desk immediately, and groans. Not another one. He moves softly, as is his habit, in front of the mirror, and looks closely to his own eyes. He cannot see the same awakening, the same hidden warmth in his eyes. They stare back blankly, yet furiously. Is it not then love? Yet as Erestor turns to the small letter, opens it from its folds, and reads it, there are things that he cannot control. First of all, there is the uplifting of the corners of his mouth. If he tries to stop it, a twist somewhere in his stomach tightens, and the  _something_  that is trapped by the tightening twist screams, and he has to walk several times around his chambers, trying not to scream out. It is not pain, but pleasurable, so very pleasurable happiness. And even now, he closes his eyes and grins to himself, feeling warmth on the sight of the letter. It is simple, in perfect beautiful handwriting of old, made perfect by imperfect little doodles.

> _"The sun shone today brilliantly._
> 
> _You were locked in your office._
> 
> _Perhaps it would be time to step out, shake off the dust and go enjoy the sun?"_

Erestor takes another paper, and starts to write on it carefully, his hand aching from all the other times he had picked a quill today.

> _"It is cold outside._
> 
> _I already have my sun."_

And this small letter he folds to be a small square, and leaves it on his desk. The sender of the letters would find it from there next time he would come.

As Erestor finally lies on his bed, he wonders still whether this all is a huge joke. For weeks he had now gotten these small notes, not every day, but at least every second, or third. For no results had he tried to figure out the sender: the warriors he had ruled out, for they had monthly patrols, and could not therefore give him notes while away. Except if someone did it for them. All that he knows is that if he keeps a watch on his room, the note will not come. If he tries to catch the sender, the note will not come. The most suspicious part of it is that his door is  _always locked_. He has not seen anyone break locks in Imladris, so whoever it is, must have keys. And his Lord Elrond is completely ruled out of question. Of course, Erestor has his wishes on who is the secret sender of the cute notes. He has been answering them for the past week now, always leaving an answer to wait. Yes, he dreams that the Elf sending them would be who so often he nowadays sees. It is wrong to dream in such way of one’s great friend, no, it is wrong. And therefore Erestor keeps himself in check and lets not his thoughts drift when in  _his_  company.

But who in Imladris does not love the charming blonde? The Elves are in awe with him, in they admire his past deeds and his serious, but humorous personality. His hair reminds Erestor of a pith of a lemon. Not the outer part of the peeled skin, no: it is too bright yellow. The lighter yellow, the pith, the inner part of the peeled lemon skin, that is the colour he is reminded of. His eyes are bright, at the same time as grave as Erestor’s, but owning some kind of embrace of life. As if they would know more of the  _joy_  and  _happiness_. Even when dressed in the darkest red robe that conceals everything, even if he would have the large, thick hood on, his fairness and brightness shine through his eyes.

Yes, Glorfindel, the Lord of the fallen House of Golden Flower. Glorfindel of fallen Gondolin. Glorfindel, the Balrog-slayer. Glorfindel of Rivendell. Mighty among mighty, strong among strong, wise among wise and most of all, kind among kind. A warrior, a  _hero_. That is the Elf that makes Erestor doubt that perhaps fate has still planned love on his path.

 

There are always two sides to a story. Yes, he knows it, because he has listened to the mean and evil words of those that dislike his graveness and, how they call it, coldness.

_Unable to love._

_Snob._

_Nerd._

He does not particularly care for those names, or the worse ones he has gotten, for more than often he has his friends who tell otherwise, no matter how small that circle is. More than often Elrond has told him that his position is not because they are friends, but because he truly is knowledgeable in his field.

There are always two sides to a story.

And Erestor longs to know the other side of the nameless letters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor overworks. Glorfindel interrupts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pith: The whitish inner portion of the rind of citrus fruits, commonly referred to as the pith.

The next few days are full of work. Erestor barely sleeps per night ( _translated: doesn’t sleep)_ , or eats even one meal per day. His pauses are non-existent. He has not even had time to answer the cute little notes.

> _I did not see you eat breakfast._
> 
> _Or lunch._
> 
> _Or dinner._
> 
> _Are you hiding from food?_

He already knows what he will answer, but he does not have time for such trifle matter. So he works and works and works. Luckily Lindir, his dear friend, is there to sometimes help him with the simplest matters. He is very good at helping, even if he sometimes stops to daydream.

> _I think you are not hiding from food._
> 
> _You are trying to bury yourself alive._

Erestor smiles dryly to the small yellow letter on his desk, on top of all his work. Yes, indeed. He is trying to bury himself alive. With a shake of head, he puts the note to his pocket just in time, for next there is a cheerful knock, and Glorfindel steps in. His hair is on one simple braid, making him look homely and casual, and the tunic and pants help to create such picture. He apparently has free day today, as he is not wearing his armour, nor does he smell sweaty. Erestor meets his eyes, seeing the flicker of life there, the  _something_  he cannot define, the  _something_  that is related to life and joy and happiness. The  _something_  he has not. Both of them stare to each other for moment in all seriousness and then Glorfindel smiles and enters in. He has a wine glass, filled, and grapes and other fruits. No lemon. How sad.

“Good morning, Lord Glorfindel. What brings you here?” Erestor asks with serious voice, and his smile is described at best dry. He should show that he enjoys the other’s company, but right now, he is too stressed and tired and simply  _hungry_  to do that.

“Erestor,” the golden Lord starts, smiling brightly to him. His eyes shine with joy. Oh! “I decided to pass by to ask if you had gotten the report I sent to you. But I see that you have enough work, and won’t bother you with it.”

“Indeed, I have more than enough work. Yet I do not remember seeing your report anywhere –I will inform you if I do.”

Glorfindel nods, seemingly unsure about something. It seems that it is nothing to worry about, for soon he walks closer, clears a bit space to the table, and puts the tray there.

“Well, you should at least enjoy these sweets sent by the kitchen. They are worried, not seeing you in the Hall at all.”

Erestor glances at the tray, and simply nods. Wine would help him concentrate, but later make him sleepy. It’d be risky to drink it. Simple food like fruits is a smart decision to send to him, though it might ruin his papers, if the juice would jump out of them. He would not risk eating them near the papers.

“Oh! I almost forgot. Something sweeter for your seemingly dull day,” the fair voice remarks, and puts to Erestor’s hand a small, creamy white candy.

“Lord Glorfindel, surely I am too old—“

Erestor is not let to say what he is about to.

“— _Master_  Erestor, surely you know that no one is ever too  _old_  to eat candies. It tastes like lemon.”

The emphasis on his title is not missed by Erestor. But more intrigued he is by the fact that the little candy would taste like lemon. He shakes his head and lets out a sigh. Glorfindel smirks. Glorfindel knows he has won, obviously. With a wave of hand, the golden Lord departs. Everyone calls him “golden Lord”, if they speak of him when he is not present. It is because of his hair colour. Erestor still thinks it is rather the colour of pith. Pith Lord? Erestor smiles at that, shakes his head, eats the candy, and continues working.

The candy does taste like lemon.

 

It is very late when Erestor manages it to his own chambers. And it is not yet the end of his workday. Without checking for a note, he slams the pile of papers to his desk. The servants have at least lit his fireplace, as he asked. That is nice. At least that he needs not to do by himself. Erestor concentrates on the papers again. They are important, for they were on his Lord’s nightstand, where he probably had been reading them through. Unfortunately, in his sleep, Elrond had probably knocked his glass, and so had potentially destroyed something important. Erestor closes his eyes for a brief second, and regrets that a second later. He feels sleepy. But the papers.  He glances carefully through them first, dries them near the fireplace, traces letters and tries to remember all important treaties or such done in the past month. He is not really sure how long he works on the papers. Only when it starts getting noisy outside, does he realise that the Homely House is waking up, and he has not slept. It takes great inner strength to get himself up from the desk and take the papers with him to his office.

It is cold there, but he really does not care. He just wants to finish the work and sleep. He barely even notices that someone knocks, nor that the comer is the small musician.

“Oh, Lindir.”

 _Well, that sounded so smart._  Erestor shakes his head a bit, and looks around. He kind of wants Lindir away from the office today. He does not have the patience to be with anyone else at this state.

“Right. Uh, could you please take these to the cooks? And ask if Lord Glorfindel has written his report on…on…uh, stuff," he says, pointing to the tray filled with the peels of fruits and an empty wine glass.

 _Even more intelligent sentence._  But to his horror, Erestor cannot remember what Glorfindel had been supposed to bring him. Lindir stares to him, and he looks scared and worried at the same time. It annoys Erestor. So when his friend asks when he has last slept, his answer is rather angry. How is he supposed to know that? There is too much work. And as he sees a bit frightened expression on the little Elf’s face, he calms down once more. Lindir has done nothing bad, it is not his fault. Instead of going to see Elrond himself, he gives that job to Lindir. He would probably do that job much much better than he at the moment.

It is only hours later that he is bothered again.

“Erestor?”

The Chief Counsellor of Imladris barely raises his eyes from the paper.

“ _Erestor_.”

The voice is commanding. Erestor does not want to look up from the paper.

“Erestor, you cannot work in this condition.”

Erestor looks up to the bright, beautiful eyes, filled with concern. There is only an angry frown on his own face, his lips pressed tightly together.

“I can work just fine!” he growls, and tries to concentrate on the paper once more. It is the last mystery to be solved. But before he can continue his scribbling he is raised from the chair, his legs and arms swinging uselessly in air.

It is only later that he realises that Glorfindel carried him away from his office on his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel wants to take care of Erestor. Erestor does not want to be cared for...or so he tells himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pith: The whitish inner portion of the rind of citrus fruits, commonly referred to as the pith.

_Someone is watching._

It is his first thought when he wakes up.

_Someone is next to me._

Erestor should wake up. He feels like he has slept too long. Far too long.

_Someone’s leg is on top of me._

The Elf has to struggle his eyes open. There indeed is someone next to him. A displeased frown meets the shiny eyes looking to him.

 _Glorfindel_.

“Good morning, Erestor,” his friend greets him. This would all be very comfortable and nice, if Erestor would a) not be feeling the strange pull  _(that most people would call attraction, but Erestor refuses to use that word)_  towards Glorfindel, and b) if he would not have work to do. The sun is already shining. He sighs.

“Glorfindel—“

He does not get to the end of his sentence however, as he remembers last night. Glorfindel had carried him to the room and thrown him to the bed. And slept on top of him.

_Uh. Right._

“—my papers! My ink! You left them all there!”

All he receives as an answer is a happy laugh, and a bit movement, as the Slayer of Balrog moves to keep him in the bed. Erestor fights not back as much as he would like to, because he wants to stay calm and rather collected. If such can be said from his pajama--? Pajama? Wait? Erestor looks across his room, finding his robe neatly folded to his chair.

“You changed my clothes,” he states, rather embarrassed.

“You would have killed me had you found yourself on that robe or naked.”

Erestor laughs not. If he had been naked, the embarrassment would have been much greater. Much, much greater.

“Well,” he says. “That is true. I feel like doing it  _anyways_  because you forced me to sleep. I am behind on my schedule, I have to catch up. I have work to do.”

But even if he tries to leave, Glorfindel only laughs and moves to lie slightly on top of him again. The other being a warrior and training regularly, it is not hard to keep the Councillor, who has not used a sword for a while, in the bed. Not that the said Councillor would like the fact.

“Glorfindel, I said I have  _work_!” Erestor claims more angrily already, but more because of the fact that he really would like to kiss the beautiful Lord, not fight against.

_Sigh._

 

It takes quite a battle before Erestor manages leave his room, hair messed up and still in his pajamas. His pajama being a very cold shirt – _with luckily high neck_ \- and up-to-knee pants. Luckily he did happen to grab a robe he could use on top of it somehow. He still hurries to his office, for Glorfindel would not be tangled to the blanket and sheets forever.  And perhaps a tiny bit because of the embarrassment. Glorfindel had undressed and dressed him…Another sad thing is that Erestor did not manage to check for the little notes, not write an answer. And now he has to catch up with his work. The sole thought feels depressing. Still, Erestor sits down and starts sorting his papers, thanking whoever closed his ink bottle last night. Maybe it was him, maybe it was Glorfindel, maybe someone else. But thanks to that person, his ink is now saved, and he can work with it.

Not that the Chief Councillor manages too far with it, before the door opens, and Glorfindel appears on his door. Erestor spares him a cold glare, and continues working. He can see the shake of head and the serious eyes fixed on him, but he decides to ignore Glorfindel for now. He is working. He needs to catch up.

“You need to sleep.”

_Well, that much is obvious—_

“And eat.”

Glorfindel sounds serious. Of course he is serious. Erestor knows he is, he knows the subject is. He still does not want to talk about it.

“And I need to work as long as Elrond is sick,” he therefore comments. This draws out something akin to snort from the Lord. Erestor raises his head to see a shake of head once more.

“I will see you at lunch,” Glorfindel says, and the glare that Erestor receives on trying protest is probably the same that the balrog received so long time ago. The raven-haired Counsellor continues his work in silence, not answering. He would just not appear at lunch, it is simply not possible. He only looks up after the door has closed behind him. Then Erestor searches his desk, but no notes are there. It only worsens his day. He should probably write an answer, maybe the person is waiting for such. But he has work…

 

…and even when the lunchtime has passed, Erestor is still buried under work. Several hours have passed, but it seems that the pile has not gone any lower. He has a headache, desire to just go to his own bed and sleep till eternity, desire to have Glorfindel sleep there next to him----and once more he is distracted! Ah.  _Could fate not be crueller?_  His thoughts are interrupted by the source of distraction entering his office once more, this time with grim face. Erestor looks to him calmly. Lunchtime is already over. He had not gone to Glorfindel. Of course not. He is not some puppy that can be commanded to go where the other wants him. Still, he feels utterly miserable under the stare. None of that does Erestor show to Glorfindel, only calm and proud outlook.

“I waited for you.”

The comment hurts, for it gives hope. Glorfindel had expected him, waited for him…and he had let him wait. That is one way to get to know the famous Lord apparently too, but a way to get to know his angry side. For Erestor finds Glorfindel standing next to him in few moments, glaring angrily. Their height difference is not that much, but the golden-haired Elf does tower higher than him. Barely.

“I had work. Important work,” Erestor defends himself, refusing to move his gaze away from the bright eyes of his friend, clouded now with anger.

“You have worked yourself to exhaustion.”

“I have not.”

“And last night was just general tiredness?”

“…yes.”

“ _Master_  Erestor, I happen to know that you wake up always exactly at same time normally. You overslept today at least by five hours. How come?”

Erestor refuses to back off, even when again his title is used as a mock. But he does not know how to explain the oversleeping, for yes, truly, he is tired, he is exhausted. Erestor frowns, tilting his head just the tiniest bit.

“How do  _you_  know that I wake up always at the  _same_  time?”

His question is followed by silence. Somehow very disturbing silence. Glorfindel does not avoid his gaze, nor does he betray any other emotions but anger –or maybe disappointment-, but neither does he answer the question. If asked how long they had stood there, Erestor would say that for a very long time. Glorfindel would say that for a very short time.

“It is my business to know things.”

“No, it is not.”

“Is it _not?_ ”

“Not that kind of things.”

“I would not be so sure of that.”

Erestor shakes his head, confused by the evasive answers and his headache. Glorfindel mirrors the shaking of head.

“Either I will carry you to eat, or you will come with me now,” he says silently. “The same threat will hang over you for dinner.”

The Chief Counsellor eyes his papers, and once more shakes his head.

“You will not carry me.”

“Good. Then we will meet in ten minutes in my chambers. If you do not wish to make a public show of it, you will come. You will as well go sleep at eight, Master Erestor. If I still see you here at that time of clock, I  _will_  personally see to it.”

With those words, Glorfindel turns his back to Erestor, and leaves the confused and a bit dumbfounded Counsellor behind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel's caretaking is getting on Erestor's nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pith: The whitish inner portion of the rind of citrus fruits, commonly referred to as the pith.

Erestor understands not what he is doing in front of Glorfindel’s room only few minutes later. He feels nervous and exhausted. But he does not want Glorfindel to carry him again, just in case the warrior would actually do that, so he is there, waiting for the door to open. He would have a quick lunch and then go back to do work. It does not take long for the golden Lord to let him in, guiding him to a table with a warm hand on his back. Erestor tenses at his touch, not allowing himself to enjoy it unnecessarily long. It is not something he should enforce between them. Glorfindel makes him sit on a chair, in front of him being a plate filled with food.

“I could have picked what I eat—“

“—you would have chosen nothing.”

Erestor gives only a glare to his friend. He pokes the few peas a bit farther away from others, and hears a sigh. It bothers him that Glorfindel stays behind his back, watching him eat. Erestor does eat. Quickly and without really tasting anything. He has work to do, and he does right now appreciate this kind of  _nursing_. He can take care of himself quite fine.

“Eat the peas,” the steady voice of his companion tells, and Erestor turns to give a glance to him.

“I don’t like peas.”

“Too bad.”

“I am not a child, Glorfindel.”

“And I am not your mother. Eat the peas.”

“No.”

“Would you rather that I feed them to you?”

“No!”

“Then eat them.”

“No. Glorfindel, I appreciate that you are trying to take care of me, but peas will not help anything. I have the right to leave them out, as much as I have the right to complain about your behaviour to Lord Elrond.”

His last argument is received with laughter.

“Oh yes, tell Elrond,” Glorfindel smiles. “I assume he will be absolutely  _furious_  with me for  _taking care of his advisor_.”

Erestor frowns and moves to leave. He is not stopped until he has reached the door.

“ _Master_  Erestor should as well remember his sleeping time,” a rather happy voice calls after Erestor, making him once more look coldly to the tall Lord.

“ _Lord_  Glorfindel should learn not to meddle with others’ business,” he retorts, though it is not as well-put as he would like to. His brain is exhausted, but he cannot help it now. He has to return to work.

 

Apparently Glorfindel forgets what he said about dinner, for Erestor sees not him for the whole evening. At eight o’clock he takes his work to his room to avoid getting carried to there once more. And he continues till very late. Every little noise makes him paranoid and hopeful. Paranoid that Glorfindel would come and once more be close, once more be grim and serious. And hopeful that Glorfindel would come and once more be close. When it is half past midnight, Erestor finally moves to his bed and falls asleep.

The dreams he sees are nightmares, nightmares of burning, losing, despairing, and they make him restless.

 

On the morning Erestor wakes up not alone. Glorfindel is staring at him silently. The room is completely dark. His curtains are drawn on the way of the sun.

“Glorfindel?” Erestor mutters rather sleepily. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing how long you have stayed awake this time.”

The grave sentence wakes up Erestor, and he looks with annoyance to his friend.  _Friend._

“Glorfindel, I don’t have time for your games.”

“You finished checking the reports last night, I see. That cost you to oversleep by three hours today.”

Erestor groans and gets up, realising he had gone to sleep with his robe on. Wonderful. It is now wrinkled…

“Why did you block the sun?” he asks angrily, moving to open the curtains and to welcome light to his room. Glorfindel’s pith-coloured hair glows wonderfully as light hits it.  _Hmm_.

“So that you would be able to sleep.”

“I overslept.”

“You would not have if you would have obeyed me last night.”

Erestor shakes his head, and goes to gather his work quickly. He should go. The whole structure of the sentence is already suggestive, if taken out of context. Which he should not be doing.  _Great_.

“ _Good day_ , Lord Glorfindel,” the Chief Counsellor of Imladris wishes to the Balrog Slayer, and leaves the room. Glorfindel stays not there for too long either.

Breakfast is delievered every morning to Erestor's chambers before he even manages to wake up. At lunchtime Glorfindel bothers Erestor once more. At dinnertime he is there to get the Counsellor to eat. And at sleeping time, he is there to guide the Elf to his room  _without_ his papers.

 

Erestor likes it not. Glorfindel likes it not.

And their relationship is more strained than ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor is getting very tired and frustrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pith: The whitish inner portion of the rind of citrus fruits, commonly referred to as the pith.

“Leave me alone, Glorfindel! You are not in a position to have to take care of me, I can perform that function perfectly by myself!”

“Apparently you can’t.”

“And apparently you cannot keep your nose out of my business!”

Glorfindel laughs grimly. So very darkly.

“Is that such a surprise?”

“I see now that it should have not been.”

“Really now?”

It is already the fourth argument they have inside three days. Erestor likes not that Glorfindel has suddenly started to nurse him and  _command_  how he should live his life. Glorfindel does not like that Erestor ignores his basic needs, like food, sleep and enjoying the life. Yes, they have even argued about that. His fair-haired friend has told Erestor that he should go out more, go and listen to the trees, go just lay on the grass or snow or whatever, but just take time off. Figure out life and love of it. What the Counsellor had answered to that had not pleased Glorfindel at all. To say it shortly, Erestor had told Glorfindel to take his “life and love of it” away while leaving him alone.

“Glorfindel, you can go elsewhere boast with your glorious purposes, but keep them out of my office  _where I try to do serious work!_ ”

“Protecting Imladris is not serious?!”

“Of course it is, but you are not doing it right now!”

They have stared to each other for so long. Dark eyes fixed on the bright ones, which are now inflamed by his comment. Glorfindel takes a step towards him, and Erestor refuses to back off. Never has he seen Glorfindel use his size and strength to his advance in arguments, but there he is, towering bit above him, looking so deathly grim and frightening. Was Erestor not as stubborn and brave, he would have covered himself and go to hide. But that is not an option now. As Glorfindel, however, takes another step, bringing them chest-to-chest, Erestor moves back. That is not comfortable position and far too near. He smells good. Like sun and light and love.  _Hah._  At that point his arm is however grabbed and he is slammed on one of the walls, a slight panic starting inside him. Glorfindel is close. Too close. He cannot escape. And though the Counsellor tries to resume his calm and collected outlook, it falters now. His golden Lord is too close, setting Erestor’s heart beat much faster than before. He chooses to ignore such, chooses to hide away the truth, for the crack in his composure surely could be accounted as just surprise.

And so it seems to be interpreted, as for a while Glorfindel moves not. Both stare to each other, and something has changed in Glorfindel’s eyes, and something has changed in Erestor’s eyes. There is fear. With a look that would make Sauron feel guilty Glorfindel releases him and leaves the room. The raven-haired advisor stays exactly where he is, angry to the subject of his affections for feeding those feelings, angry to himself for realising that he yearns to be closer. He yearns not to argue. Erestor presses his lips together, and walks out of his room. He would go see Elrond. Though he did just send Lindir there, saying that he was busy with work…

Erestor still storms to his Lord’s room, rather slamming the door open than opening it. Unfortunately for him, he is not let vent out his anger, for Elrond has caused trouble to poor Lindir. Erestor feels personally a bit protective over Lindir, like father would of son. The little Elf is very dear to him. Elrond, too, has become dear to him.  _Sigh_. It takes some time to settle down the mess, and at no point does Erestor tell why he originally came. In fact, the chat with Elrond is unsettling  _him_  even more.

 _“Maybe some of us should be as well thinking of their dreams,”_ Elrond had said when Erestor had been telling his Lord to not destroy other’s dreams while chasing his own. Maybe some of us should be as well thinking of their dreams. Erestor walks to his office, but cannot concentrate on the work. Such hinting is not necessary at all. Such hinting is unasked for! Frustrated and exhausted, Erestor tries to pay attention to the million new urgent papers, but even the pen feels heavier in his hand than before. He has seen Elves make themselves a fool when in love  _oh_ so many times, but now that he is in the same position, Erestor enjoys it not at all. Love cannot be that difficult emotion. It cannot be. Surely it is logical as well. He enjoys Glorfindel’s company, but to notice the small dark circle in his eyes, to notice that his nose is cute, to realise his lips adorably fat, to let his eyes linger when the other undresses…that is madness already. To wish to talk to him, to wish to be with him, to wish to kiss him, that is madness. Erestor shakes his head silently, letting the pen drop. But most of the Men he has seen confess their love, get rejected, and move on. Why is it not as simple? Erestor is rather sure it would break things he doesn’t knows even exist if he would go to Glorfindel and be rejected. But if, truly, he would be meant to be with a male, then that would mean his family would come to an end there. He would not have children. Erestor lets out a frustrated sound, and gets up. This does not work today.  _Nothing_  works today.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor doesn't realise a symbol of care which is right in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pith: The whitish inner portion of the rind of citrus fruits, commonly referred to as the pith.

The next day Erestor sees Glorfindel not. Nor has he seen the cute little notes since he started fighting with the Lord. It would rather hint that his dear friend had written those, and Erestor’s main suspect is nowadays Glorfindel. Or rather, main source of hope… _sigh._  Still, he feels somehow very lonely and less happy, as the yellow notes are not waiting him anymore. And especially if they are from Glorfindel, his dear Glorfindel, who is now gone.  _His dear Glorfindel_. Erestor snorts, and continues to fix the papers. Glorfindel is not his, and never will be. Yet after a week, the golden Lord’s absence worries him. After more days pass, Erestor finds him restless. And unfortunately for him, his Lord Elrond as well notices it now that he has gotten healthy. The Chief Counsellor might be wise and hide his love, but his restlessness is not easier to conceal. It is not until he mentions to Elrond “absentmindedly” that he has not seen Glorfindel for long time that he figures out that his beloved ( _sigh_ ) is actually doing his work once more. This week, the next one, and the following one…and Erestor has already forgotten how much it hurts to miss someone’s presence.

And it is not but only after several unfortunate episodes that Erestor would see Glorfindel once more. They all events start from one specific event, when his Lord carries a frozen little Elf in. That little Elf being Lindir, his friend, freezing. Apparently he had become nervous while playing his harp in front of a large audience, and escaped outside. Erestor agrees to take the small musician to his rooms, for he has a warm fireplace and a cosy armchair in front of it. Plus he can do work in his room and so watch over his frozen friend. And that he does. Erestor makes sure to put the tea cup away after Lindir puts it down, makes sure that his friend has enough blankets to keep him warm, and makes sure that the fire is extinguished before he goes to sleep.

He notices not in his worry over Lindir the golden flower on his table.

It is only few hours later that he wakes up to someone moving in his chambers, but is too lazy to rise his head to check. Instead he whispers Lindir’s name, wondering if his friend had woken up. Hearing the “thank you”, he determines it is so.

“It’s still night,” Erestor mutters, pulling his blankets closer to himself. He likes to sleep in warmth, which is why he has five blankets on top of each.

“Yes. I’m sorry I woke you up,” the other Elf apologises, but Erestor stops the apology. There is no need for such. It is nice to have someone close. He could at least pretend that it is someone else, even if that would be mean towards Lindir. The Elf would never know…

“Goodnight, Erestor.”

“Goodnight, Lindir. Stay away from him.”

It is only a momentarily idea that makes Erestor warn Lindir. He maybe should not have. But he is worried that the one Lindir pines for is not the one for him. And he does not want to see his little friend hurt. Silence reigns after his words, waking up the Counsellor completely.

“Why?”

Lindir sounds tense. Wary.  _How wonderful_.

“I do not want to crush what you wish to achieve, but Lindir, he is not the one for you. You will find someone for you sooner or later,” Erestor mumbles, hoping he has not hurt Lindir’s feelings too severely.  But Erestor really does not want to see him hurt.

“Like you?” is the rather bitter answer. Erestor tenses.  _You will find someone for you sooner or later, like me._

_Heartless Councellor._

_Unable to love._

_Probably hates everyone and everything._

_He only loves his job!_

“Goodnight, Lindir.”

 

No matter how much he tries, Erestor cannot sleep. He feels as if someone would have been in his room, but had been once more too lazy to look around. Surely there had been no one. Therefore he gets up slowly and moves to his desk, thinking of taking few papers with and going to work. There is a weird imprint on the top of his papers, as if a small vase had been there. Probably he had left at some point his ink bottle on it…

Erestor moves rather slowly to his office, taking only few papers with him. It however surprises him to find the fair-haired warrior, who he has missed, from there. With wine.  _He is drunk_.  _Lovely._

“Glorfindel?” he inquires quietly, noticing that his friend seems to have drank quite lot. “Have you returned from the patrol?”

The light is dimmed from those usually bright eyes by alcohol. It takes some time before Glorfindel gets up, and nears him then. There is a slow shake of head. He really must be drunk.

“Glorfindel?”

Erestor is about to ask if something is wrong, for he rarely sees Glorfindel to drink himself to this state, but a tug on his hair stops him. Instead he finds himself to be pulled by his hair to a wall, his head and wall causing a noisy crash as they collide. He has no idea what is going on for few seconds, not until he feels a strong arm keep him up by his hair, and it hurts, and he feels lips on his lips. Glorfindel’s lips. On his. And for a moment he is lost on how wonderful it is, but starts then to fight against. This is not right. Glorfindel is drunk. And this would never be right.

“Glorfindel, stop it!” Erestor commands angrily, attempting to push away the golden kisser. And Glorfindel stops, and his bright eyes are dimmed by the drink and anger. That absence of light saddens Erestor the most.

“Who is it that you sleep with?” the angry voice, the alcohol-smelling breath whispers. “Who do you share your bed with?”

“Glorfindel?”

“No!”

“Glorfindel, I do not understand---“

“I saw you! You and him. Or her. Black hair.”

Glorfindel’s speech is a bit slurred.

“I brought you a flower.”

Erestor remembers no flower. But he does realise that Glorfindel thinks he is sleeping with Lindir. Which is not proper at all.

“Glorfindel, listen, I am not sleeping with Lindir. He froze himself, and was in my chambers only to warm up—“

“—and how exactly—“

“—shut up!”

Erestor needs not Glorfindel’s hints or implications. And the last implication earns Glorfindel a slap to his beautiful, wonderful cheek.

“I do not  _sleep_  with Lindir. You should know better than that, you should know better than to drink this much! You are  _despicable._ ”

And with those last words Erestor fights his way off from the surprised warrior and runs away. No better makes the last whisper he hears from those wonderful lips that had been pressed against his just moments later.

“ _But Erestor, I love you.”_

And Erestor would like to reply to that, but he knows it is just the alcohol talking, and it is all just an illusion.

All of it.

_There was no flower in his room._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond finds out about Erestor's problems. More problems ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pith: The whitish inner portion of the rind of citrus fruits, commonly referred to as the pith.

Erestor does not sleep that night any more. He walks around the corridors, scared of most of the shadows or creeks that the Homely House let out. He feared Glorfindel would be back. It is not until the sun is creeping up that he returns to his office, fortunately empty of the dimmed presence of the Lord of the Golden Flower.

_Fortunately._

With a sigh Erestor begins to work, wanting his thoughts off from the events of the night.

> _“Who is it that you sleep with?”_
> 
> _“Who do you share your bed with?”_

_Why do you care?_

And the kiss. Erestor frowns, trying to read the report. He tries not to replay the touch of the soft lips on his, the wonderful sensation of  _something_  happening, the beautiful twist of his stomach.  _How romantic._

> “ _But Erestor, I love you.”_

The Chief Counsellor lets out a frustrated noise, and feels like throwing his ink bottle to the wall. But he can’t. It is his favourite ink. And expensive. Sigh.

His door opens silently, but Erestor’s nerves are enough hyped up to pick it. He feels nervous about it being Glorfindel. Fortunately for him, it is only his Lord. Fortunately or not.

“Erestor, have you finished the report?”

“Yes,” Erestor starts, but looks then to the report. He has not even started it. “No.”

Elrond looks curious.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” his Counsellor sighs. The last thing Erestor wants to do is to have Elrond poking his nose in. Not now.

“Erestor.”

“There is nothing wrong!”

“Right,” his Lord answers, and Erestor can almost see the sarcasm on the way Elrond rolls his eyes.

“I am just tired.”

“You should rest then. Have you even eaten breakfast—“

Elrond does not get too far with his sentence, for it sparks the anger of his Counsellor.

“Don’t tell me you too are going to start commanding what I should do and when!”

“What? What do you mean, me too?”

Elrond’s voice is surprised, of course. It is also annoyed, for Erestor’s tone is aggressive.

“I am done with people commanding my life! it is my life, I’ve lived it many, many years, and suddenly I am to be instructed in such? This is fucking madness! I am done, do you hear, done!”

“Erestor, calm down! What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing!”

“Erestor!”

“What?!”

“Calm down!”

“How can I?! You and Glorfindel—you both are making me mad!”

And Elrond is silenced by those words, and he stares, and he shakes his head.

“Glorfindel has been telling you to eat?” he asks silently. Erestor turns to look away.

“Telling? He did not do much telling after starting to  _force_  me to eat,” he comments bitterly.

“He is trying to take care of you!”

“I don’t  _need_  anyone to take care of me. Stop pushing your nose where it belongs not!”

And with those words, Erestor departs from his office with ice-cold face. For he has had a glimpse of understanding to the reasons behind Glorfindel’s actions, and he is scared of that glimpse. It is better to reject it all. He doesn’t need anyone to take care of him. Thousands of years he has taken care of himself.

_And look how that ended up._

Erestor walks to the library, takes a book randomly and moves near the hearth to pretend to be reading. He would not like to waste a valuable book like this, but he cannot concentrate.

> _“He is trying to take care of you!”_

But why? Why is the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower interested in his dinners and sleeping times?

_Because he cares._

No, that is stupid.

> _“But Erestor, I love you.”_

Drunken illusion.

_Soft lips against his, tasting nothing like lemon. How absurd to think they would. If he’d eat one of those lemon candies, would they then?_

Foolish fantasies!

 

Erestor knows he has to apologize to Elrond for his behaviour. Maybe he could ask for few free days. No, that is foolish as well. What would he do, but drown to his misery? No, no free days. He never knows what to do with his free days anyways.

 

It is much later that he actually apologizes to Elrond, but that is only because of a poor Elf having been kicked by Elrond’s horse, as he had been riding. That poor Elf being Lindir, once more. He had a knack at getting into trouble. Glorfindel had been there. Glorfindel had talked with Lindir. Glorfindel.

Erestor had left as soon as he had been able to do so without waking suspicion.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A candy track leads to Glorfindel. Erestor follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pith: The whitish inner portion of the rind of citrus fruits, commonly referred to as the pith.

Erestor can barely even concentrate on his work anymore. His mind is plagued by the thoughts of a certain person, and especially the certain person’s gifts. After Lindir’s accident, the notes have returned. The notes and small other gifts.

> _Erestor, I am sorry._

A lemon candy.

> _Please forgive me. I was drunk._

A plate of fruits.

> _You are avoiding me. Erestor, I am sorry._

A stack of finished reports.  _Is that supposed to be a gift?_  Erestor had sighed and buried his head to his hands.

> _Erestor, take care of yourself._

A tray with full meal had been brought to him. A week had already passed, filled with little notes of asking forgiveness and  _taking care_  of him.  _Of him!_  Meals were delivered to his office more than once. Erestor is not pleased, not at all, for it disturbs his work greatly. His mind flies to clouds, to dream of  _what if_. It takes more than “a bit” of determination to get back down to earth. Absent-mindedly he chews on another lemon candy. They taste good. He rather fears he has grown to like them. He gets daily at least one. They are sweet.

 _Like Glorfindel_.

It is not until the next week that Erestor starts to get notes that are disturbing his work even more.

> _The day is fair, like you._

Erestor stares for at least fifteen minutes at the note.  _What?_

> _I hope you find the sweets as sweet as you are._

To his greatest horror, that particular note brings a smile to his face before he can stop it. The faint uplifting of his corners, the twisting feeling of something being strangled in his stomach…

> _If you would let me,_
> 
> _we could be,_
> 
> _under a tree,_
> 
> _and disagree,_
> 
> _and I could kiss thee_
> 
> _silent._

_I could kiss thee silent._ Erestor almost chokes to his candy as he reads the poem.  _I could kiss thee silent._  Is this a joke? Is it a cruel way of making fun? Does he enjoy ruining Erestor’s work? The Chief Counsellor of Imladris is a complete mess, not being able to think properly, feeling the familiar warmth of happiness spreading, and trying to cool it down with logic. But logic helps him not.

So when he gets the next evening a note without a candy, it is not surprising he follows what the note says.

> _The candies will lead you to me, if you want so. It is cold outside, so I will send a cloak with this note._   _The first candy is where I made a mistake with you._

Erestor hesitates, looking at the beautiful cape that came with, and Elrond, who is staring to him.

“You should go,” he says. “He has been terribly anxious and careless because of your inability to respond to him. If you need me, search from the bathroom of the Healing wing. I promised to check if Lindir could be bathed today. He has apparently been sad over smelling horrible.”

With a small affectionate smile, his Lord leaves Erestor attempting to look calm, but failing in such miserably and just looking extremely stressed.

_“He has been terribly anxious and careless because of your inability to respond to him.”_

_Careless?_

Hesitantly, Erestor holds the cape close to himself, and moves in his office near to the wall where Glorfindel had smashed him  _that night._  On the floor is a yellow candy and a note. When had Glorfindel taken them there, why had no one noticed?

> _Getting warmer. Enjoy your candy. I have noticed you like them. The next one is where we met first time. If you remember such?_

Erestor feels terribly embarrassed when the note says that Glorfindel has noticed he likes the candies.  _He should have sent the candies back instead of eating them._ Yet already he is chewing to the wonderfully sweet treat. Still, he moves out of his office, completely engulfed in his thoughts, and moves to the front doors of the Last Homely House. Glorfindel had been welcomed here, and naturally Erestor had been one of those Elves to greet and welcome him. He cannot see anything there. It is dark already.

“Master Erestor?”

The Councellor turns to look at the guard that had spoken to him in a low, grave tone.

“Lord Glorfindel asked me to give these to you, if I would happen to see you pass by.”

And to Erestor is given another candy and a note. He manages only a silent, thoughtful “thank you”, for he is not sure if this is reality anymore. He can feel the ground beneath him, feel the cold wind freeze him through the cloak, but the reality seems very dreamy in other senses. Erestor has no idea why is he doing this even.

> _If you would let me,_
> 
> _we could be,_
> 
> _under a lemon tree,_
> 
> _and disagree…_

Erestor stares at the note. it is the poem. Under a tree? Slowly he descends the stairs and looks around. Surely Glorfindel knows he cannot know the right tree— _wait._

> _Under a lemon tree._

He has changed the poem.  _Has he changed the ending?_  Erestor brushes that thought away and starts to walk towards the gardens. There were fruits and vegetables grown in safety from the snow. And there is Glorfindel, wearing the tunic and pants, his hair free and everywhere, and him looking to the sky.

_He looks miserable._

Glorfindel, his golden Lord, looks sad.

_“He has been terribly anxious and careless because of your inability to respond to him.”_

Erestor walks inside silently, examining the other Elf. The stars reflect in his eyes, dimming a bit the beautiful light of his own. His fair hair seems darker here. Naturally. How stupid.

“Glorfindel?” Erestor whispers, taking a hesitant step towards Glorfindel. Would he reveal it all to be bluff, a joke, a hilarious comedy? He sees the wonderful eyes turn to himself, surprise lights up Glorfindel’s face.

“If you would let me,

we could be,

under a lemon tree,” Glorfindel says silently, looking to his eyes. And then there is a lovely grin, and a hand telling him to come closer.  Erestor keeps his face calm, though it is hard. He feels worried now. The steps he takes to reach the golden Elf seem too quick.

“Sit.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Glorfindel’s voice is gentle, low…enchanting. Erestor shakes his head.

“I did not come here to be commanded.”

There is a bit more nervous smile on Glorfindel’s face.  _He looks like a puppy._  Erestor almost shakes his head again to that thought. The Elf (puppy) gets up, and takes a step closer. They are once more face-to-face, too close. It makes Erestor nervous.

“…and disagree,

and I could kiss thee

if you agree,” Glorfindel recites.

_He changed the ending._

More Erestor cannot think, for that is when Glorfindel kisses him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pith: The whitish inner portion of the rind of citrus fruits, commonly referred to as the pith.

Lemon.

Lemon, the pith of a lemon.

Yellow, white-ish pith.

Lemon is yellow, the pith is white. Not completely white.

Lemon is sweet and refreshing and zestful.

Oh!

So alike with the kiss.

The kiss is not long, but it is sweet and refreshing and zestful. And so very much like Glorfindel. And for that short moment Erestor can believe the clichés and romantic stories, because Glorfindel’s eyes are shining so bright, his face is close, and his expression so… _happy_! Erestor smiles to him, lets the same silly smile that before he has hidden and kept in secret conquer his face. There is a similar, large smile on his golden Lord’s face, and hands cup his cheeks and pull him closer for another kiss. Erestor fights it not. Once more there is the fleeting touch of lips, a bit more, a bit longer, and once more they pull apart. And now Glorfindel embraces him properly, pulling close to his chest, and Erestor feels safe and sound there. He closes his eyes and stays there. He has a feeling he should say something: express his love, tell that he wishes for this as well, explain why he has avoided the subject of his attraction so much. But Glorfindel looks to him with a smile, and he keeps silent. Erestor does not want to break this precious silence yet. So when the other Elf rises his gaze to the sky, where countless stars have gathered to witness the night of Middle-Earth, Erestor follows his gaze to stare there as well.

And everything is silent and perfect.

The two Elves stay there the whole night, in that wonderful, warm garden, under the sheltering lemon tree and bright stars. When the sun starts to replace the moon in the sky and lights up the world with its shiny colours, Erestor and Glorfindel are lying on the ground, tangled to each other and sleeping. And the gardener who comes to look after the precious fruits and vegetables can only laugh at the protective embrace the larger, golden Elf has of the raven-haired Councilor, who instead looks very peaceful. And it is this overjoyed laugh that wakes up as well the two tired Elves, who cannot for now enjoy the moment of waking up in each other’s arms, but have to get up and try to explain their embarrassment away. They leave the garden hand-in-hand, and though Erestor cannot say he would feel any less tired as in his workdays, he feels a great deal happier, and so before they reach the doors of Imladris, he sneaks a little kiss to Glorfindel’s lips. It might have developed into more than just a little kiss, though.

As they enter the corridors of Imladris again, they smile, because they have a secret. Everyone continues their days as usual. No one knows. Some guess, but no one knows yet. Except Elrond. Elrond naturally knows. Elrond always knows. Erestor looks to Glorfindel, and his golden warrior seems to share the same thought, as a brilliant smile lights up his features. And they stop holding hands, smiling to each other, and then schooling their features to look like always. And they start a chat of politics, of the borders of Imladris, and they search for the playful glints in each other’s eyes. And they laugh inside to every face that passes them  _as usually_. This game they play for few days. They interact as normally. Perhaps Erestor smiles more often now, and is grumpier when Elrond comes to his room and keeps him there by whining about his problems. Perhaps Glorfindel has found new energy to train soldiers and less will to go to border patrols. But all the same, the show goes on…

…until one wonderful dinner, hosted by Elrond for the whole of Imladris. There is dance, music, laughter, alcohol and food. And that is where Glorfindel asks his dark lover to dance, and they dance together, and they hide not their joy of being with each other, and they hide not the small kisses given to hands or cheeks or lips, and they do not hide the wonderful, heady emotion that fills them.

And so the whole of Imladris knows that they are in love.

And they know they will always be in love.

And that is all that matters.


End file.
